Undone
by TilltheMorningLight
Summary: Megatron's in quite the predicament. heat!fic slash


Warnings: Non-con, spark-action, mech on mech, somewhat explicit. Gets cute at the end though.

I was asked to write something with Megatron in heat, and Optimus finding him. This is what came from that. :))

* * *

"Slag," Megatron spat as he desperately tried pushing the large piece of rock that had landed on his _cannon_ arm, off. He dug his fingers into the stone, growling deeply when the action did nothing but scratch the paint off the tips of his digits. The fragging rock wasn't even _that_ heavy; Megatron had been trapped under much worse. Of course, that was when he had _had_ his cannon…

…and when he hadn't been battling a particularly persistent heat-cycle. The process of keeping his urges under control and making sure his troops remained ignorant of his state was a tiring succession of specially scented showers and specifically timed meetings. It wouldn't do to have a ship full of less than chaste mechs catching the scent of a heat-cycle. Leader or not, Megatron was only one mech, and Cybertronian heat was rather merciless.

And somewhat a mystery – heat cycles started for what seemed like no reason. Medics and scientists alike were stumped by the random pattern of a mech's heat-cycles.

Megatron groaned, feeling a strong thrum suddenly course through his systems. It was agonizing, humiliating – he hadn't been able to relieve himself since before he accompanied his Decepticons to battle – and that had been at least three Earth hours before. Megatron renewed his efforts on removing the large boulder from his limb, grunting with the effort. It budged, but barely, and he huffed, aggravated.

It could have been worse, he supposed. At least he had taken one of those special showers before he had left the _Nemesis._ He shuddered to think what would happen if not only his men caught onto his heat, but the Autobots as well. Megatron suddenly thought of Optimus Prime, staring at him with those righteous, angry optics –

The sound of thunder broke Megatron's thoughts and he looked up at the sky.

Well, now it was worse.

Not moments later, water began pouring down. Megatron was pushing and scratching at the boulder with renewed vigor – there was still a battle going on, and any mech could find him in such a…vulnerable position. He eventually shoved the rock off of his arm, and he cursed when he saw his cannon had been completely crushed under the boulder. His limb wasn't much better off, but at least he still had it. Megatron stood, slipping in the mud that had been created by the mass amount of rain.

He absently wondered if his men even missed him on the battlefield. Sure, he had given them orders before the battle began, but plans changed as the fight went on. Megatron wasn't calling his men stupid – or well, they _were_ stupid, but he tried to deny it – but they weren't…exactly _keen _when it came to avoiding enemy fire.

Megatron felt an abrupt panic fill him, one he had felt many times. He needed to get back to the battle, fast, and call the retreat. Even if his men were holding their own, _he_ needed to be hidden away –

Too bad there was a big red, white and blue form standing on the ridge above him. It just _had_ to be _him_. Megatron looked up through the sheets of water, taking a step back when piercing blue optics met his own. His panic grew and transformed into something almost uncontrollable. Surely the rain had washed away any of the scent-hiding solution he had applied earlier, leaving only the trace of his _heat_.

Optimus Prime's clouded optics were proof enough of that…

"P-Prime," Megatron said, trying to keep his voice as menacing as it usually was. It was hard, considering his systems were already taking in the Prime's strong build alarmingly approvingly, his systems on _fire_, and so his voice came out barely loud enough to hear over the raging storm. "I – you don't – "

"Megatron." Optimus' voice was loud and clear, even through the wind and the rain, and had a surprising _inevitability _to it. Megatron involuntarily shuddered at the deep sound and cursed. He needed to get away quickly. He thought of simply flying off; Prime couldn't follow. Of course, this plan would have been great if he _could_ fly. It would seem his traitorous body was too weak for flight.

Megatron took a long look at Optimus, noticing with horror – and a worryingly growing _want_ – how intently the Autobot was staring.

On foot, then.

The leader of the Decepticons turned and started running as fast as he could. He was surprised how quick he was in his diminished state. However, Prime, no doubt, was in perfect condition, not having any trouble dodging blows on the battlefield. He was a _Prime_, after all.

Megatron didn't look back, genuine terror running through his mind. If he was caught, he would surely be _taken_ by his enemy, in every sense of the word. Yes, Optimus Prime was usually a noble, honorable mech, but when it came to heat-cycles…

Well, it had been said that Primes were especially _dominant_. Their programming, for some Primus-forsaken reason, ran wild when a mech was in heat. As did normal mechs; that's why Megatron was keeping his heat such a well-guarded secret from his own men. But for Optimus Prime to know of it was the _worst_ thing to happen. The idiot wouldn't stop until he had fragged Megatron's processing functions out.

And, well, Megatron didn't want that to happen. So he kept running, not caring how pathetic he looked while slipping through the mud-covered ground. His damaged arm was on fire with pain, but he couldn't deal with that at the moment. At least he could still move it.

Megatron suddenly fell, his body giving up. He cried out, trying to push himself up off the wet ground. It wasn't working, so he sat up, arms held out in front of his body. He wasn't going down easily, heat-cycle be slagged. Megatron would fight off Prime until his body completely gave out. He looked up, shocked when he saw Optimus just standing there, mere feet away.

"_Prime_, don't!" Megatron felt his body shaking, fear already having taken away his composure. "I – I don't want this."

Optimus had already knelt down, far too close for comfort, and stared at Megatron. The Autobot commander's optics had a strange mix of pity and _want_. Megatron, at that moment, knew how it was going to end.

With a calming clicking sound – distinct to Cybertronians – Optimus began sliding his hands up Megatron's thighs. Megatron whined, his interface protocols fighting for complete control over his systems. He fought it, hard enough to overheat, and shoved Prime's hands away. He _couldn't_ let this happen – this _wasn't_ happening –

He was not interfacing with Optimus Prime!

"Megatron," Optimus said quietly, nearly desperately, as he placed his hands on Megatron's legs again. Megatron tried to growl, but it came out sounding like a purr. The touching was, rather pitifully, nearly enough to send him into overload. He had been trying to ignore his heat-cycle, only self-overloading when it became absolutely unbearable. Megatron had been rather proud of himself, only having to self-service once a day.

But apparently that hadn't been enough. Prime's strong, warm hands were sending him into a frenzied mess. His mind was telling him to pull away, to _fight_, but his body was doing the exact opposite. Megatron continued to struggle, grasping and clawing at his greatest enemy's hands, hoping for damage.

"Stop," Optimus commanded, even though it sounded nothing like any command Megatron had ever heard. It was soft, and _pleading_. Why was Prime pleading? Shouldn't _he_ be the one saying _stop_? Optimus grabbed Megatron's hands and held them firmly in his own. Megatron gasped, his injured arm being raised too high. What was the fool doing?

There was a moment of silence, then a strained, "you're injured."

Megatron glared, but not at Optimus – he couldn't _look_ at Optimus at the moment. "That's – that's _all_ you've noticed?" He shifted, hoping he could somehow stand and start running again. As if reading his mind, Optimus placed a firm hand on his thigh again – _oh_ that was driving him _mad_. He didn't want Optimus to…to _do_ anything to him, but his slagging body was wanting it so badly it hurt, and here the idiot was _concerned_ about his arm?

Perhaps if Prime was trying _not_ to do anything, then he would let him go?

"Let me go."

Optimus looked at Megatron straight in the optics. Fear began bubbling up in Megatron's midsection; he knew that look. "Megatron – "

"_No_, Prime. I said let me go!" Megatron couldn't believe it, but he was hysterical by this point. "I don't want this, just let me go."

The Prime continued staring – which, unfortunately, was doing funny, and border-lining _painful_ things to Megatron's body – and shook his head slowly. "What do you think is going to happen if one of your men _find_ you like this?"

"Soundwave – "

"The chances of Soundwave finding you are minimal. His leg was shot through by Ironhide, and he quickly disappeared with his cassettes." Optimus began that pit-spawned rubbing again. "Probably back to your base."

Megatron growled, desperation filling him. "I-I can make it back on my own."

"Or," Optimus started, his voice that infuriatingly calm tone – and those _hands_! "Starscream will find you, and you wouldn't know what had hit you."

"I can take care of myself, _Optimus_!" Megatron tried jerking away again, but to no avail. Embarrassed, he glared at his enemy with as much anger – which was a _lot_ – as he could muster at the moment. "And besides, it won't be any different than what – than what _you're_ going to do –"

Optimus made that clicking sound again, and Megatron didn't know whether to roar with rage or give into the comfort and let those hands do what they pleased. It was starting to put such a strain on his systems that warnings were popping up in his HUD. He groaned, tensing up at a particularly violent shudder.

"Megatron, please. Let me help you."

Megatron couldn't believe it – Prime had said _help_, as if _Megatron_ was in _need_ –

Okay, maybe he _was_ in need, but even still, what right did _Optimus Prime_ have to be the one to help a mech – not any mech either, his slagging nemesis – through a heat-cycle? Pit-spawned glitch probably thought he was somehow "beseeched" with that right when appointed Prime.

…or, Megatron shuddered, he might _have_ been. The title of Prime wasn't just a military role; it also was a sort of a spiritual one, and branched out into Primus knew what other areas. It was sickeningly antiquated, especially for a race such as Cybertronians, but some things just stuck around over the eons.

Of course, _when_ Megatron ruled the Universe, and he fragging would, there was going to be no more Primes or silly rituals or even the slagging Matrix.

But all of that seemed so far away at the moment. Megatron gasped as he felt those hands slide up to his torso, playing with seams. He wanted to get away, _move_, but his body wasn't having any of it. So he remained there, fighting the urge to moan.

"Let it go, stop fighting. You're going to burn yourself out."

Megatron shook his head, feeling downright terrified. "No! Stop this, _now_! I-I refuse; this isn't _your_ call, it's _mine_, and I say – "

A hand pressed firmly into a seam between Megatron's legs and he cried out, bucking his hips into the touch. After a moment or two, after he had somewhat _recovered_, Megatron realized with shame that he had nearly hit overload with that small touch alone. He ducked his head, fighting off a sob.

"I can help you," Optimus said softly, _reassuringly_, like Megatron was some virgin. The Prime began exploring the other areas near Megatron's interface equipment with gentle touches. "Please, let me do this."

Megatron shook his head, _trying_ to keep himself angry, but the hand halfway up his pelvic plating was making that difficult, if not impossible. There was a soft click, and Megatron felt time stop.

Optimus Prime had just coaxed _open_ his interface panel.

"No, stop – _stop_!"

Optimus paused, a worried look on his face, like he didn't know _why_ Megatron didn't want him to go any further, or _why_ this was so slagging _wrong_. It was getting hard to keep from spreading his legs further apart, _inviting_ Optimus…

"If I don't do something soon, you're systems are going to overheat."

Like Megatron _didn't_ know that? He moaned, and realized Optimus was wiggling his thick fingers into a place Megatron didn't want the Prime's thick fingers wiggling into. He tried scooting away, but a strong arm kept him in place. The rain and mud weren't helping his escape, either, and he slid forward, those fingers digging in deeper.

"I can do it my_self_, Pri – _nnh!_" The Prime's digits were hitting a lot deeper than he had expected; the wonderful sensations ran crazy up his body and down his legs. Megatron fought to keep control of his vocalizer, knowing that if he _wailed_ out in pleasure he would never forgive himself. He wasn't even sure if he could _forgive_ himself at this point. The sensations didn't stop, to his complete horror, and he realized he had hit overload.

_Hard_. Megatron threw his head back, his optics screwed shut. He tried _not_ to cry out, but failed miserably – he was practically thanking Primus for the vibrations running through his body. What was even worse, he was pumping his hips, _squeezing_ around those blue fingers.

Oh, but it felt _good_. It was almost too much, and it wasn't stopping. Megatron, through his euphoria, made some sort of confused sound, wondering when the overload was supposed to stop. He had never had one last _this_ long.

It was starting to hurt, too – the pleasure was morphing into a pain he couldn't describe. He looked down at Optimus, his optics clouded. "_Whu_-_what_ are you doing to me?"

Megatron felt his spark begin to _ache_, and realized that the pain was coming from his chest.

Optimus looked determined, so much so that he ignored Megatron's question. Megatron gasped, the pain increasing. "_Stop_! Whatever you're doing, _stop it_!"

The Prime placed a hand on Megatron's chest plates, that same resolute look still in place. He retracted his face-mask before speaking. "Megatron, I'm going to need you to _trust _me."

Megatron shook his head, feeling himself lose it. How was Prime so fragging _calm_? "No! Stop – just slagging _stop_!"

He was _begging_.

Optimus removed his fingers from Megatron, but kept his hand on his chest. The Autobot commander began tugging at seams on Megatron's chest, his face absolutely serene. Megatron cried out in frustration, powerless to stop any of this from happening.

"Calm _down_." Optimus, for the first time during this whole encounter, sounded angry, and Megatron quieted. "You're hurting yourself; now relax and let me help you for Primus' sake!"

"Why even help me?" Megatron asked, his rage rising again. Optimus remained silent and continued his fondling. Megatron groaned, pushing his chest into those hands. The ache was past the point of unbearable, and Optimus' hands were, embarrassingly, easing the tension.

Prime made some sort of approving noise, pressing against silver plating. "That's it…"

Before long Optimus had Megatron's chest open, and the discomfort left –

Only to be replaced with a surging _need_. It was far worse than _before_, and Megatron didn't know what to do. He grabbed hold of _something_, pulling it into him. He looked up to see Optimus' naked face mere inches from his and realized he had pulled the Prime on top of him, his wide chest plates pressing against Megatron's exposed spark. It was _torture_, having a spark that close to his own with no actual connection. Optimus made a strangled sound, pulling back slightly.

"Megatron, _wait _– "

"I – _Primus_ – you told me to – ugh!" Megatron tightened his grip when Optimus pulled back.

Optimus jerked out of Megatron's grasp, and quickly stuck his hands in Megatron's spark chamber. Those thick, talented fingers pressed firmly against the metal rim of the chamber, and Megatron cried out, unable to control himself. He began pleading for more, not quite sure what he was saying and not really caring how loud he was. Nothing mattered but those hands.

Megatron hadn't had anyone ever overload him through touch alone, he realized – somehow he managed this coherent thought through the blazing pleasure humming through him. It took a moment longer than it normally would for him to realize _why_ Prime was doing it this way…

Prime didn't want to _actually_ do anything with Megatron. It was such a noble thing, so _Prime_-like, almost polite. Megatron suddenly barked out a laugh, the action startling Optimus. Megatron looked up at him, a grin on his face. He must have looked ridiculous, because Optimus was staring at him with the strangest expression on his face.

"You-you boggle me, Prime."

Optimus, still perplexed, and dead-serious, continued his wonderful ministrations. "What? Does this tickle?"

Megatron laughed so hard he thought he was going to begin choking on rain-water. Optimus began rubbing soothing, small circles and Megatron's laughter turned into a long, pleased moan. He looked up at those blue optics and – surprisingly _pouty_ for a Prime – lips and felt a strange heat creep into his middle.

Optimus Prime was clearly seeing something he liked. Megatron wiggled under the stare, not sure if he liked this new kind of attention; it had been different when it was just Prime doing what he thought was "right". He was about to say something, but those hands hit something quite sensitive, and Megatron gasped. The feeling escalated, and he was glad to finally be overloading.

_Very_ glad. Megatron was sure his grip on Prime was so tight that he was denting metal. If he had been listening to Optimus, he would have heard a very satisfied sound leaving the Prime's vocalizer…

The overload ended, and Megatron sighed, satisfied. He hadn't felt this _normal_ in a while, not since his heat-cycle started. The warlord, forgetting himself, looked up at Optimus, and after a moment or two of being stared back at with a look of pure _awe_, that he was smiling. Optimus _was_ liking what he was seeing –

And Megatron panicked again. He sat up, shoving Optimus off of him. He took a moment to collect himself before attempting to stand. After two attempts, he realized it was impossible and gave up with a huff. He looked at his arch-rival and glared. Optimus, with his mask still slid back, simply stared.

"Well?" Megatron spat, not any real ire in it. "Are you going to take me in now that you've fragged me into uselessness?"

Megatron could have sworn Optimus was smirking. "Feeling better I take it?"

"…somewhat."

Optimus _was_ smirking – the glitch was _proud_ of himself! "Good. Glad I could help out."

"Help out? Please! You forced yourself on me!"

"Really? You seemed to like it well enough – "

"It was just the slagging heat-cycle! Don't you _dare_ presume I enjoyed your-your _hand jobs_!" Megatron stood, finally finding his strength, and glared down at the Prime. "This changes nothing, you fragged up glitch!"

Optimus stood, his smile disappearing behind his mask. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

Megatron sighed, almost losing his balance. It was hard enough to stand, he couldn't even imagine walking. But he had to try. He turned, took a step, then felt a strong arm wrap around him when he began to fall. Megatron cursed, feeling his legs give out.

"You know, you're still putting out," Optimus said offhandedly as he set Megatron back on the muddy ground. Megatron growled – like he _didn't know that_?

"And _you_ know you're annoying me!" Megatron felt himself sink into the mud and sighed dejectedly. How was he going to enter his own base in the midst of a raging heat-cycle? He didn't even want to think about it.

Megatron felt a hand slither its way to his lower abdomen he and jumped.

"…what are you doing?"

"I have a proposition," Optimus _purred _in his audial. Megatron shuddered as the Prime's warm body pressed against his back. He felt his interface protocols _springing_ to life. "We can stay here…_work_ through it…"

Megatron growled, not liking that idea at all – heat-cycles could last a while, and the thought of doing nothing but interfacing with _Optimus Prime_, his _enemy_, was…

Actually, it sounded pretty fragging nice.

"Fine." Megatron grabbed Optimus' hands, wrapping the Prime's arms around his middle, and leant back into those red chest-plates. "But I'd like to feel _more_ than your hands this time."

End..?

* * *

(Yup.)


End file.
